Thanks For Not Giving Up On Me
by sammit-janet
Summary: Prompt: Well I like anything brotherly. If you usually insert the reader…maybe like an outside perspective of one of them defending/protecting the other? And seeing how close they are? Bonus if it's when they're retired from hunting because one of them has a serious injury/disability. (love hurt/comfort) :)


"Sammy!" Dean yelled as Sam flew across the barn, slamming into the tractor and slumping to the floor. Dean stared in horror, that vampire had flung Sam's giant frame across the room like he was swatting a fly. He switched the machete from one hand to the other and charged. He separated the vamp's head from his shoulders in a big sweeping arc and was running to Sam before the body even hit the ground.

"Sam!" Dean placed his hand on Sam's neck to make sure he was still alive. He was, thank God. "Sam, wake up dammit," he grabbed Sam's coat and shook him gently. Sam groaned and opened his eyes, trying to figure out where he was. Suddenly he cried out and grabbed Dean's arm.

"What? What's the matter?"

"My back! Oh God Dean, something's really wrong," his face screwed up in agony. "I–I can't feel my legs."

"What?" Dean's face paled in terror.

"I can't feel my legs Dean," Sam started to shake.

"You're gonna be okay, Sammy. We just gotta get you to a hospital. I'll be right back," Dean walked outside, tears in his eyes. He took a deep breath to calm himself down and then dialed 911.

—–

At the hospital Dean paced in the waiting room like a caged animal.

"Mr. Gunderson?" The doctor was standing at the door.

"Yes?" Dean ran over, fear in his eyes.

"Your brother has a dislocation of his thoracic vertebrae."

"English Doc, please!"

"He has displaced his vertebrae, causing serious spinal cord compression, which is the cause of him not being able to feel or move his legs. We need to perform surgery and he will need rehabilitation after he heals to help him walk again."

"But, he will walk again?"

"I believe so, yes. Nothing is broken, just severely displaced."

"Thank you," Dean sat down and put his head in his hands. The doctor patted him on the shoulder and left to start the surgery.

—–

It had been a month and Sam was finally ready to go home. Dean helped him out of the hospital bed and into the wheelchair. He noticed the depressed look on Sam's face as he wheeled him out of the hospital but he let it go. His brother was going to get better, he just knew it. Sam was strong, he had been through much worse than this. He rolled him up to the passenger door of the Impala and opened the door.

"Ok, here we go Sammy," he leaned over and Sam put his arms around his neck. Dean lifted him up out of the chair and swung him into the seat, gently picking up his legs and putting them inside the car. He noticed Sam's jaw muscles clenching, as he folded up the wheelchair and put it in the trunk. He had to leave all the weapons back at the hotel to make room and he felt a little naked honestly. Once they got to the hotel he helped Sam out of the car again and wheeled him in the hotel room.

"Do you want to get on the bed?" Dean asked.

"No, here is fine," Sam rolled himself up to the table and sat, stone-faced.

"Sam–"

"Dean, don't," Sam held his hand up to cut him off.

Dean looked at him, debating on whether or not to keep going. In the end he decided not to push it. "Want something to eat?"

"Not hungry."

"Ok. Well, I'll be right back, I'm starving. You good for a little while?"

"Yes."

These one-word answers were not good. Dean knew it, but he also knew they meant Sam was in no mood to talk. He went and picked up some burgers and drinks. He got some for Sam even though he said he wasn't hungry. He walked back in the room to find Sam on the floor beside the bed.

"Sam!" He threw the food on the table and ran to his side. "What happened?!"

"I thought I could get in the bed," Sam gritted his teeth against the pain.

"Why didn't you wait for me to get back?" he helped Sam slide himself up onto the bed and then put his legs up on the bed for him.

"Because I thought I could at least do that for myself," Sam crossed his arms and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headboard.

Dean looked at him and once again bit his tongue. "Well, how about a burger?" He walked over to the table and held out a burger and soda to Sam.

Sam opened his eyes, took the burger and started eating. Dean turned on the TV and sat down at the table, eating his burger and glancing at Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam stopped eating and stared at his hands.

"Sam?"

"You should just leave me Dean. I'm useless now. I can't hunt, I can't get myself into the bed, I can't even go to the bathroom by myself."

"Sam, come on man, you'll beat this, I know you will."

"And if I don't?"

"You will!"

Sam threw the soda across the room and it exploded against the wall, "You don't know that Dean! You can't! We've never dealt with anything like this before."

Dean sat down beside Sam on the bed, "I'm not leaving you little brother. It's not happening, so put that thought out of your head."

Sam looked down, staring at his hands again.

"And you will walk again. Because you are strong and I believe in you," he put his hand on Sam's knee and patted it.

Sam gasped, "Do that again."

"What?"

Sam leaned over as far as he could and rapped his knuckle on his knee. "I thought I felt something."

Dean stood and walked to the end of the bed and slid Sam's shoes and socks off.

"Try and move your toes Sam," Dean held his breath. The doctor had tried this test every day for the past month with no success.

Sam's brow furrowed with concentration and his big toe moved a little.

"Sam! You moved it!" Dean laughed and clapped his hands with joy.

Sam smiled, his eyes wet with tears.

"I told you!" Dean hugged his brother and Sam hugged him back.

"Thanks for not giving up on me Dean."


End file.
